


Stupid

by paperstorm



Series: IRL [3]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Insecure Michael, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke doesn't like when Michael insults himself, even as a joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. So this is the first instalment in a series I'm starting of little blurb/Drabble type fics based on real things that happen to muke and/or 5sos. They'll all be relatively short and mostly smut-free because I'm not looking for them to take up a lot of my time. Just like when something happens and I go "damn I wanna write that!" now I will. :) Enjoy instalment number one, inspired, as many fics are, by a conversation with my Iris.

They go out after the Teen Choice Awards. Michael doesn’t come with them. He was somehow a ball of energy during the show, running on adrenaline and cold medication, but after he fades hard. He suddenly looks terrible, dark circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks and sallow skin. Luke wasn’t going to go either, he wanted to go back to their house and take care of his boyfriend, but Michael insisted. He was just going to chug a bottle of Nyquil and go straight to sleep, he said. It would be pointless for Luke to be there. He should go out and have fun. Michael just needed to sleep and he’d feel better in the morning. That’s what Michael said, and he looked exhausted but like he was telling the truth so Luke believed him. He has fun. Luke loves his band, he loves hanging out with any of them or all of them or any combination in between. Michael stays on his mind, though.

Stupid. Luke doesn’t like the word. He knows it was a joke. Michael wasn’t supposed to talk, to save his voice for the performance tonight, so he’d been writing on a pad of paper when he needed something and showing it to Luke to take care of. It evolved nearly instantly into him wandering around backstage, walking up to random strangers with the notepad and a serious expression on his face, and when they looked, expecting him to be communicating something actually important, he’d just written penis or balls or done a crude drawing of a pair of boobs. Michael has the sense of humour of a six year old sometimes, but so does Luke, and so does the rest of the band, really, so they’d all been amused by it. Then Michael sent a tweet about it, and called himself stupid. And it was a joke, but it doesn’t sit right with Luke ever when Michael insults himself. Even when he does it as a joke. Maybe especially then, because sometimes Michael’s favorite kind of joke is the self-depreciating kind and there are times when Luke wonders if it gets a little too real.

He tiptoes into Michael’s bedroom once they arrive back in their rented house. He’s had a drink or two but he isn’t drunk like Calum is. Luke can hear him and Ashton banging around the floor below. Ashton is giggling so loudly. Luke wonders if Calum stole another microwave.

Michael turns over, squinting at Luke in the light from the hallway that filters in through the door. It must be bright to his eyes. “Hey,” he mumbles sleepily.

“Sorry,” Luke says. He gets inside quickly so he can close the door behind himself. He pulls his jeans and socks off and climbs into the bed with Michael.

“I’m gonna get you sick,” Michael protests weakly, but he doesn’t back his words up with actions. Instead he lets Luke pull him into his arms. He’s extra affectionate when he’s sick, and this time is no exception. Michael nuzzles into Luke like a kitten, and Luke kinda loves it. Michael isn’t always like this anymore. They have a reputation to uphold now.

“Don’t care,” Luke tells him, kissing his forehead. “You were so good tonight.”

“I sounded sick,” Michael corrects. “So did Cal.”

“You sounded punk rock,” Luke corrects. “Both of you. All raspy and shit. We blew the boy-band bullshit right out their butts.”

Michael laughs a little. “Okay, Jack Black. Did you guys have fun? What time is it?”

“Just after 2.” He doesn’t answer about whether they had fun. They did, but the truth is it would have been more fun with Michael there too and Michael won’t believe that if Luke tells him.

“You wanna make out?”

“I thought you were sick,” Luke chuckles.

“Oh. I forgot.” Michael hums happily and nuzzles Luke again. “Just cuddle me, then.”

“I am. Hey, um.” Luke swallows and gets right to it, no point in wasting time. He watches for it; for Michael to do things like this, to insult himself or to make a joke at his own expense that hits a little too close to home. Michael is so, so much better, this year, at being happy with himself, but sometimes old habits creep back in. He’s always been insecure. And he’s always been afraid of showing it, even to Luke.

“What?” Michael asks, sounding serious. He slides his hand up between them and tugs at the collar of Luke’s t-shirt when Luke doesn’t answer straight away.

“You are not stupid,” Luke tells him. “You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

Michael moves his head back on the pillow so he can frown at Luke. “What?”

“What you said. With … about the notepad, thing. What you were writing.”

Michael’s forehead crinkles even deeper, and then his eyes widen a little. “The thing I tweeted?”

“Yeah.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Dude. It was a joke.”

“Yeah, I know, but … it kind of … wasn’t. It was like, that thing you do.”

“What thing do I do?”

“When you knock yourself down as a joke but you’re serious at the same time.”

Michael’s green eyes roll again and he turns his face into the pillow.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Luke says, pulling Michael in close again. “But I’m gonna keep saying so until you believe that you’re perfect.”

Michael goes quiet, for a long time, and tense in Luke’s arms. Luke doesn’t speak either. He doesn’t need them to say anything else, he just needs to lie here with Michael in his arms. Then Michael sighs again, and mutters, “Fuck,” and his voice is thick.

“M’sorry,” Luke murmurs. He should have kept his mouth shut. Everything was fine, and he was just trying to help but he made it worse instead. He does that sometimes. Luke needs to learn … whatever. Tact, or subtlety, or something. To keep his damn lips zipped.

“You didn’t do anything,” Michael mumbles. He pushes his face into Luke’s chest and it’s damp. “I’m sick and I’m tired. That’s all.”

“Talk to me.” Luke rubs one hand up and down Michael’s bare back; the fingers on the other tangle in Michael’s soft hair. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“It’s not the tweet. That really was a joke. I know I’m not stupid.”

“So tell me what it is.”

Michael pauses for a minute and just moves his fingers in the fabric of Luke’s shirt. “When. Um. When we were kids? I was like … your whole world. The way you used to look at me, when we’d hang out in your bedroom back home.”

“I was so in awe of you,” Luke agrees. He scratches his fingers through Michael’s hair. He likes it black. It looks so beautiful against Michael’s pale skin, paler now because he isn’t feeling well.

“But it was because there wasn’t anyone else. For a while I was kinda your only friend. Now there’s so many other people, you know?” Michael shrugs, like he thinks the worlds coming out of his own mouth are ridiculous and embarrassing. “We meet gorgeous girls every single day, and … I don’t know. It’s so fucking dumb.”

“It’s not,” Luke soothes, stroking Michael’s cheek. It’s so warm – he has a fever again. He isn’t thinking clearly right now, probably.

“Sometimes I’m just worried about what’s gonna happen when you realize you can do better than me.” His voice breaks a little, and Luke hugs Michael so tightly.

He kisses Michael’s face; his sweat-dappled forehead, under his left eye, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, and whispers, “When we were kids we dreamed about seeing the world together. And now that we have? I know for sure that everything I ever needed, I had all along in my bedroom back home.”

“Shut up,” Michael mumbles, eyes closing and his face turning toward Luke.

Luke smiles. “Make me.”

“I’m siiiick,” Michael whines.

“I know.” Luke touches his cheek again and kisses it too, and rolls onto his back, tugging Michael with him so Michael can use him as a pillow. He slides his arms around Michael’s back, tucking Michael’s body against his own. Michael’s skin is so hot, soaking through Luke like a furnace. “Go to sleep.”

“You cray dawg,” Michael adds, giggling at his own bad joke.

Luke smiles. “You’re a nut-case. I love you, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hm. A lot.”

“Okay.” Michael kisses Luke’s neck and then yawns, snuggling into Luke’s arms. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on tumblr if you want!](http://paper-storm.tumblr.com/)


End file.
